


Time Has Come to Pass

by ChiwiTheKiwi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Friendships, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Beta Read, POV Clint Barton, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Endgame, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 14:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17899601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiwiTheKiwi/pseuds/ChiwiTheKiwi
Summary: When Clint walks into the restricted access common room in the early hours of the morning, the last thing he's expecting to see is a boy perched on one of the couches, staring at a glass of water that rests on the coffee table in front of him.After at least a good minute of watching him, he's evidently just…A kid.A kid that is obviously exhausted; lost in thought with a look that should have no place on anyone so young.(AKA: Clint sees someone in need of support and feels no hesitation to step up and provide just that.)





	Time Has Come to Pass

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who finally joined the fandom! Only took a good decade or so to sit down and binge all the movies, but here I am. Clint quickly became one of my favourite characters and it didn't take long for me realise just how little he's portrayed in fanfiction, so I'm here to at least make a start.
> 
> If this seems out of character, or there are plentiful inconsistencies/mistakes, yeah. This is more experimental than anything and I'm just trying to learn the ropes first, so I didn't put a whole lot of effort into the editing part of this. Writing Clint was so much more enjoyable than I could have expected it to be though, so now I'm almost definitely going to be writing more for him in the future. It's what he deserves. And though I'm not overly happy with how this turned out, the struggle I had to face writing this on public buses for my work commute was overwhelming, so I'm posting it anyway.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy.
> 
> (The link to my Tumblr is in the end notes, if you're the type who like to follow authors for future work.)

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When Clint walks into the restricted access common room in the early hours of the morning, the last thing he's expecting to see is a boy perched on one of the couches, staring at a glass of water that rests on the coffee table in front of him. He looks like he’s barely been able to drag himself out of bed; hair disheveled, his t-shirt and sweats crumpled and disorderly

 

He stops in his tracks, seemingly having yet to be either noticed or acknowledged, and he takes a long moment to inspect him as a potential threat. The common room is guarded by the A.I. Tony whipped up at some point between him retiring and the calamity of the world. Following the Reset — with Thanos defeated and everything finally returning to the ways it used to be — the security measures of the building were only enhanced further, which by extension means the A.I. has been upgraded as well. So unless there was an error in its functioning, he somehow has access to this level, or he broke into the compound, there's no realistic explanation that would excuse him being up here. Even so, after at least a good minute of watching him, he's evidently just… 

 

A kid.

 

A kid that is obviously exhausted; lost in thought with a look that should have no place on anyone so young.

 

He looks over his shoulder, back out and into the hall. For what exactly he might be searching for he isn't sure, possibly the answer as to how best to deal with this situation. Clint knows that stepping away is a course of action someone could theoretically take in this scenario. But it isn't an option for him. Not in his mind, when this kid sits just metres away wearing an expression like  _ that _ .

 

With little other choice, he wills himself forward, retaining readiness and caution while a growing sense of concern stirs in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't fault himself for being worried about this stranger in front of him. He has kids himself, and has adapted to know instantly when something is wrong at the slightest hint of distress or despondency. If the boy’s expression here isn't enough of a red flag, then the tense body posture is the next. He isn't moving, shoulders hunched forward and stiff, his head bowed and hands clasped together tightly. It's not a good look on anyone regardless of age, and it only spurs him forward with a renewed purpose.

 

The boy doesn't even flinch, neither looking up to his approach or making a sound. Nothing indicates he even knows Clint is in the room. He slowly starts to lean into the kid's peripheral, trying to grab his attention without making noise and spooking him.

 

His efforts appear in vain, as the moment he seems to come into his view, he physically startles, jolting into a frozen state. His eyes are momentarily blown wide as his gaze instantaneously shifts to his position. Clint raises his hands in front of him, straightening his posture as the other scans him over for a moment, a look of recognition eventually crossing his face.

 

“Hey, I'm sorry about that, kid,” he says sincerely. “I was trying not to scare you.” The boy's eyes are still comically wide, but this time it's out of something entirely apart from alarm. His mouth hangs slightly open too, gaping at him in astonishment. He finally speaks, words coming slow and soft, as if he can't quite believe them himself.

 

“You're Hawkeye…”

 

Clint quirks his head to the side and shrugs minutely. “ _ Was _ Hawkeye. I'd like to think I'm retired for good now.”

 

The kid blinks before energy practically reverberates from his body and he seems at an almost loss for words. He still manages to keep his volume low, mindful of the fact that others are sleeping in the building, even if the walls are soundproof.

 

“Still, I really admired your work! Your ability to hold your own in a fight without needing some sort of superhuman power was really inspiring, and your skill with a range of weapons even more so!” The boy seemed to remember himself, hands folding into a ball in his lap as he looked off to the side shyly. “And, uh… did you need something?”

 

Clint lets a smile slip through for a moment, grateful of the praise. This genuine liveliness is a much better look on him than what he'd walked in on prior. “Thank you, I mean that. But, I feel like I should be asking  _ you _ that question. Can't say I've ever seen you around the compound before... how are you up here?” He tries to keep his tone as light as he can manage. The boy thus far has only expressed admiration, so he'll respect him in kind and not turn this into an interrogation.

 

“Oh! I'm actually Mr. Stark's intern. He's letting me stay in one of the guest rooms since we got caught up working on a project of his late.”

 

He thinks for a moment, vaguely remembering Tony mention an intern at some point or another. He's pretty sure he also gave a name, though he's got no recollection of what it may have been.

 

Nevertheless, he hums a high note, impressed. “You must be one intelligent kid to keep up with all that goes on in that head of his. I gave up trying to figure out what any of that scientific talk coming out of his mouth meant a long time ago.” Clint chuckles. “How old are you anyway? Highschool, I assume?” 

 

The kid nods with a fluster, likely at having been concluded as clever. “Yeah, I'm sixteen, seventeen in August.” He continues holding a grin, before a look of realisation falls on his face and he sharply juts out a hand towards him. “My name’s Peter, by the way.”

 

_ Ah _ , he thinks, memories resurfacing.  _ That definitely sounds familiar. _

 

He takes the kid's hand, shaking it. “Feel free to just call me Clint, and your name definitely rings a bell.”

 

Their hands part, and the boy almost seems to become nervous for a moment. “... It does?”

 

He finds that reaction odd, but decides to let it lie and reassure him.

 

“Of course it does. Tony's talked about how much you help him out in his labs before.” He offers him a grin. “He left out the fact that you're not even out of school yet, but that makes it a whole lot more admirable. I'm sure the science duo are thrilled to have you make it a trio.”

 

The kid slips from a look of relief to confusion, and then to understanding. “Oh, Mr. Banner?” he asks. “I haven't  _ really  _ met him yet. I've seen him around before, but I haven't been able to introduce myself. I'm not here all the time with school and… stuff, and Mr. Banner has his own private lab that he spends a lot of time in. I'd love to be able to speak with him though! His work in nuclear physics and engineering is something we've studied a lot in class, and I enjoy reading his notes about his research when I can find the time.”

 

Clint can only take in the words with a smile before moving to sit on the couch beside him. He produces a breathy laugh. “I'm sure if you pestered Tony about it enough he’d introduce you. I doubt he's really got a whole lot to do anyway, considering him and the rest of the team have taken to the bench for the foreseeable future.”

 

The kid smiles, but it becomes slightly forced at the mention of the retired heroes. To others it may have been imperceptible, but he's lucky to be able to notice the smallest of cues. Peter’s eyes grow distant, not truly focusing on anything in front of him and more on something playing on in his mind. Clint brings a hand up and gently lays it on his shoulder, drawing him back to the present.

 

“You alright?” he asks, tone mellow.

 

Peter catches himself, the smile only becoming more forced the harder he attempts to make it seem genuine. “Of course I am, just a bit tired is all.”

 

Clint doesn't believe that at all. From the kid’s reaction, he's almost certainly showing his doubt on his face as well.

 

“I mean it, really, I'm fine.”

 

He sighs. “Look, Peter, I know when someone's lying, I have my own children you know. You're probably a worse liar than all of them combined, if I'm honest.”

 

The boy seems ready to argue the point, though his face slackens and his energy takes a dive. He turns away, looking at his feet, and raises a hand to scrub at his face. It's back to something akin to the look that Clint had seen on him when he first walked in. He does appear tired — more exhausted, really — but there's an array of emotions beyond that’s just too many for him to possibly identify. If he were to try and put a name to it, he’d say it's an expression of deep, haunting fear. His heart hurts just looking at the kid, of which suddenly looks so much smaller in the world as he sits beside him. 

 

“I don't want to have to drag you into it, Mr. Clint. You don't need to worry about me.” Peter's voice is soft, though it shows a hint of resignation inbetween the lines. If it were in any other situation, Clint would restate that the “Mr.” is a bit excessive, but if it makes the kid feel more comfortable right now, it's better to leave untouched for the time being.

 

“For years my job revolved around worrying about people. Trust me, I think I'd sleep easier knowing what's bothering you and that I could potentially offer something that may help you rather than be entirely unaware.” He adds a small tilt of the corner of his mouth as Peter looks up from the floor to him. 

 

The boy sighs, one hand moving to smooth his already flattened hair back in a sign of nervousness. Both of them lapse into silence as he seems to think over whether or not to accept the invitation to open up, and Clint waits with an experienced patience. He's gone through this same process many times over, not even just with his own kids. The amount of times he's had to convince other slightly-delusional men to do something they had no intention of following is unfavourable to say the least. Of course, most of those scenarios were in the midst of life or death situations, which makes this present case a breeze.

 

“Well… Do you worry?” he finally asks. “About the new hero team, that is.”

 

That question alone is enough to throw him for a loop.

 

“Worry in what way about them?”

 

“As in worry they won't live up to the Avengers’ legacy. That maybe they won't be able to protect the people in the end, like you guys did.”

 

Clint finds himself wanting to say that yes, he does worry, for what are probably selfish reasons too. However, the more he thinks on it, the less anxious he feels about the new heroes.

 

He looks down at his hands, tracing the wedding ring on his finger fondly as he answers.

 

“Yes, maybe sometimes I do get worried. But, I don't think there's a reason I should be.” Peter looks confused now, so he continues, glad he has his attention. “I've seen what each of them are capable of. I've fought by their sides, and at one point, fought against them. That latter part wasn't the lighter point of my time, but it allowed me to know the extents of their capability and tact in the heat of a battle. Even though most of them are likely a little less experienced than we are, there was a time when the Avengers were in the same position. At the time, we were a foreign concept. A group of remarkable individuals who for the most part came from nothing to defend the people, of which became the Earth's mightiest heroes. It had never been done before, but as time went on and more incidents required our attention, people finally began to have a more stable basis of faith in us.” He's smiling now, he knows that much, but he makes no attempt to let it slip. “I don't doubt it will take some time for everyone to get used to the new team, but I think I have a good idea that with them taking the pedestal there won't be a whole lot we have to fear.”

 

Clint finally looks back to him, and is surprised when he sees how fragile he looks. He looks genuinely incredulous, like he’s only now coming to understand another's perspective on the matter. Then Peter turns his head away just as he notices the boy’s eyes beginning to well up. 

 

“I think I get it… but I'm still…”

 

He can't find the words, and something slowly clicks in place for Clint. First he waits, watching to see if he continues, but when the boy merely bows his head again and regains the distanced look he'd held prior, he steps in to find the words for him. 

 

He keeps his voice low as he speaks his mind. “You were caught in The Decimation, weren't you?” 

 

Peter's eyes jerk back in his direction, though his look is not one of shock or surprise. He looks like he’s now finally allowing himself to feel grief for the first time. He's not fearful, that much is obvious, but the pain from the event is very evidently still there, and it's all the answer that he needs.

 

It awakens something unsettling in his stomach, the memory of watching his own family fall away into nothingness right before his eyes resurfacing. He had been the only one left standing in that family home. The hours he’d spent hunched on the ground as he felt himself break at the seams is one of the many experiences he would much rather forget. 

 

“I understand why the possibility of another scenario like that would frighten you.”

 

Peter just nods, turning to look at the glass of water on the table again. It’s yet to be lifted from its place, the drink inside unmoving unlike the onslaught of memories that pervade his mind . To Clint's surprise, the boy speaks up.

“What if I--” he cuts himself short, then tries again. “What if they aren't there to save the world next time…”

 

He stops again, then finds the words to voice his thoughts.

 

“I want to be there to protect those I love, but I can't do that if I'm gone. And… And I tried to be there! I resisted the effects of the The Decimation longer than I know anyone else did! But I still wasn't  _ there _ after people needed me! My aunt…” 

 

Clint notices with a start that there are tears slipping down Peter's cheeks now. 

 

“My aunt is the only family I have left. I couldn't help my uncle when it counted, and when I disappeared as well… She was the last of the family remaining. I wasn't there to help her. She was alone, all because I wasn't able to be there when she needed me to be.”

 

He interjects. “And there's nothing you could have done to change that.”

 

Peter does the same. “I could have been stronger, for her, for Mr. Stark, for everyone. Because I wasn't, half of the universe lost someone they loved or cared about in some way. It's because of me things turned out the way they did.”

 

Clint has a feeling this is all alluding to a bigger picture that he isn’t quite seeing, but that doesn't matter. What  _ does  _ matter is that he's here to help the kid, because in this moment, he's the only one here to do it. He’s likely the only one this teenage boy, with a stare that's seen far too much in his short time, has ever shared how deep the events now past have affected him. This is probably the first time he's ever let himself speak about it like he’s needed to since the Reset, and anyone who thinks Clint would do anything less than become the stability this kid needs right now is all too wrong. 

 

So he turns to fully face Peter, places his hands on his shoulders, and brings him into an enveloping hug. Almost immediately he clings back, burying his face into his shoulder. There’s no time before the muffled sounds of restrained sobbing begins.

 

This is the best outcome, Clint thinks. It's either now, where he has no one to witness his breakdown, rather than later when the buildup would have inevitably become too much and he may not have someone there to support him. Besides, he's surprised that he doesn't find himself uncomfortable helping this kid he's only just met. It makes him glad to know that all his years of life-threatening situations haven't hardened him so much as to turn away a person in need on an emotional level.

 

He takes a leap of faith and slowly moves one hand to the back of the kid's head. As he begins tentatively running his hand over his hair, observant so as to know if the gesture is too far, Peter waves any concern of the matter by only leaning into the touch, the flow of tears only seeming to fall harder, no longer being held back as his barriers completely fall away. The grip around his middle only seems to grow stronger as well, and he idly notices just how sturdy a hold it is. It's not painful, but it's far tighter than he could have possibly imagined from someone of his slim physique. It could be nothing, but it subconsciously adds to his suspicions nonetheless.

 

The minutes begin to stretch out, and Peter stays in his arms with a desperation that distantly feels all too familiar. If he had seen himself from an outside view when he reunited with his wife and kids, this is probably what it looked like. The length of time they'd all sat together, not letting go of eachother in the aftermath of the Reset had likely been one of the happiest moments of his life. It's not something he likes to admit, but when they'd disappeared with the rest of the victims of The Decimation, he’d been in such a low point that he became an entirely different person. It was only when he saw his children's smiling faces, his wife's relieved eyes, that the frustrations and grief that clouded his judgement began to part. That moment was also a wakeup call for him to the extents of just how much his family needs him to be around.

 

It’s why this kid's fears resonate so deeply within him, because he was in the exact same place not all too long ago. He wants to protect his family and be there if anything should happen, but there's a difference between being there  _ for  _ them and being there  _ with _ them. Plus, there are always going to be dangers, no matter how hard a pill that is to swallow. He can't expect himself to be able to fight them off until the day he dies, because it just might be that if he were to die, that would leave them unguarded anyway. In that case, his efforts will have only prolonged a fate that may have never even come if not for his intervention. 

 

It takes a good quarter of an hour before Peter’s able to calm down. He hasn't completely stopped crying, but his breathing has evened out more and he's no longer shaking. Clint realised at one point or another that he can't even remember what he came out here to do, but it can't have possibly been more important than this. 

 

He doesn't stop running his hand over the kid's hair, even as he finally fills the silence.

 

“Hey, you listening?” 

 

He feels Peter nod into his shoulder, the sniffling quieting as he sets his attention to hearing what he has to say.

 

“This probably isn't what you want to know, but trust me when I say that there are going to be threats no matter what you do. It's not an easy thing to accept, I know because it took me many years to understand it. The most important thing to do for those you care about is be in the moment and love them. I'm sure your aunt thinks highly of you for wanting to do so much to keep her safe, but when you start letting your desire to protect interfere with the amount of time you spend together, that’s when you know it’s getting the best of you. I think you're really brave for wanting to keep people safe, especially since you're still trying to juggle your teenage life, but something else you have to understand is that you aren't alone in all of this.”

 

Peter slowly pulls himself away, gaze pointed down to the couch cushions. Clint lets his arms drop away, suddenly feeling just how exhausted he is.

 

“No matter how much it would probably give Tony heartburn over to admit, I'm sure he would be at your aid the moment you even indicate you need him.” He inwardly sighs, before resigning himself to this fate. “Even then, if no one else, I'll be willing to step in and help you out at a moment's notice too.” 

 

The kid finally looks up to him with reddened eyes. His expression shows hopefulness and surprise, a stark contrast to the bitter, defeated look he'd worn previously. When he speaks, his voice matches about how put together he appears, which isn't saying much.

 

“You… You would help me?”

 

Clint chuckles lowly, raising a hand slowly and settling it on Peter’s head again. He ruffles his hair as he replies.

 

“Of course.”

 

Without warning, Peter throws himself into his chest again. Clint can only react by releasing a laugh and hugging the boy back. He knows this won’t fix all of his problems, that the boy will still worry for as long as the world is in peril, but it’s a start at the very least. Perhaps the two of them will learn together to have more faith in the stubborn wills of mankind to hold out on their own deaths for the sake of others. The hardheadedness of hero-types is tougher than the densest object known to man, and he can confirm this because he became victim to it himself.

 

The two of them probably make for quite the sight. Sitting on a couch at the early reaches of the morning in near darkness, sharing a moment Clint had never expected he’d be capable of commiting to with someone he’s known for such a short amount of time.

 

It’s now that a thought strikes him, and he has no hesitation in speaking it.

 

“Hey, kid?” There's a hum of acknowledgement, so he continues. “Have you been talking with anyone? About what happened, I mean.” 

 

There's a length of silence, though Clint thinks that Peter knows what he's referring to despite his vagueness.

 

“Therapists often get stereotyped as cold and cynical, but a lot of us ex-Avengers have our own share of problems that we've gone to get support for — it's to be expected in that line of work. If you would find it helpful, I can give you the details to the man I sometimes still go and see. He had methods of healing that I personally found to work well with me. I can't guarantee he will suit you as well -— a lot of people typically go through multiple therapists before they find someone who really works with them — but I think it would be worth a try.”

 

Peter pulls away again, expression thoughtful as he ponders the idea. Eventually, he slowly nods, taking in a deep, steadying breath as he comes to his conclusion.

 

“I think… that would help me. Thank you, Mr. Clint”

 

Glad he can finally make his remark without it being in the middle of a tense discussion, he ruffles his hair again with a grin.

 

“You can lose the formalities, kid. I think a heart-to-heart like that is more than deserving of it.”

 

Peter only responds with a laugh, so he playfully shoves his shoulder. 

 

He really has gone soft ever since he started a family. To think a teenage boy he's only heard about in passing prior to tonight could wrap him around his finger is a direct testament to that. It's not as big of a surprise when he starts to compare themselves, because the truth is, Clint sees a lot of himself in him. He may not be nearly as intelligent as he is, not by a long shot if the internship has anything to say for it, but their ultimate goals align to a startling degree. It makes him wonder what kind of person he'll turn out to be; what kind of career he'll pursue. He's got the kind of heart that you'd imagine coming from the typical comic book hero. He can have his theories, that maybe he's already doing so much more good than anyone is really giving him credit for, but what he does know for sure is that he appears to just be a genuinely kind and humble kid.

 

And even later, when the two have parted ways to their respective guest rooms after Peter’s final thank yous, he imagines his heart is still smiling, happy he was able to bring a joyful light back to his eyes, even if just for the moment.

 

The next morning Peter would come to fluster at the mere idea of having cried into  _ the _ Hawkeye's shirt for over fifteen minutes, but what would get him more is that he had admitted with sincerity that he had faith in the new team of heroes — unknowingly including Peter at the same time — to bring the world to the peace it deserved when the moment arises. 

 

With Hawkeye also supporting him, he thinks that, when that time does come, where everything is on the line and it’ll take their best efforts to right a major wrong, it might just be a little less impossible.

 

 

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**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr here: [chiwithekiwi](https://chiwithekiwi.tumblr.com/)


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